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Library: Member EssaysThe Meditation Manual of the Dharma FellowshipPart III: Mindfulness, the Fundamental Basis of Insight MeditationHaving first built a firm foundation of Calm-abiding, the more that one then introduces "mindfulness" into one's meditation, the more will the meditation be transformed into Insight-practice (vipasyana), and it is by means of the latter that Enlightenment dawns. Do not assume that one is ready to develop Insight-practice too soon. It is best to keep the work of concentration going until one is certain of real attainment, or at least until one has acquired a still, calm and truly lucid state of mind. Here the guidance of a qualified teacher becomes valuable. With such guidance, one can learn how to raise the question, "What is the nature of mind?" Raising this and similar questions that seek to guide the student toward a direct exploration of the nature of mind, pertains to the specialized "oral instructions" for which the Ka'gyu masters are uniquely famous. Insight-practice is predicated on enquiry. Such practice is born of constant questioning and self-observation. What is Mindfulness? Mindfulness (smriti, remembering) is the cornerstone of the process of self-realization. Mindfulness is the antidote for the normal state of blindness and sleep that possesses ordinary consciousness. When one goes about doing the things that are performed each day, the consciousness acts in such a way, that it is absorbed in whatever is going on. The mind is occupied, externally, by the sounds, sights, smells and tastes, etc., that impinge upon it. Likewise, the mind is occupied, internally, by the thoughts, feelings and impulses arising within the psyche. This pre-occupation or "entanglement" with events (dharmas, phenomena), whether outer or inner, physical or mental, other than itself, means that the mind is completely engrossed in ongoing activity (karma). To really understand this, one must come to see the realization that human beings live and act in a somnambulistic state. For one to be conscious of oneself, in any given situation, one first has to remember (smriti) that one is present. But if one tries to remember oneself for even a short length of time, it rapidly becomes evident that the effort is near impossible to sustain. For example, lets say that, even as you read these words, you attempt to remember yourself, as the reader; as the one who is conscious of the words being read. You try to be conscious of being, of existing, while involved in the act of reading. Allowing yourself to become absorbed in the act of reading, you nevertheless try to remain aware of yourself as the reader. How long can you sustain that self-awareness? It doesn't take very much time—especially if a certain word or passage really catches your attention—before you find that you have forgotten to be self-aware, even while trying very hard to remember yourself, and instead have become absorbed in the content and ideas of what you are reading. In a broad sense, this illustrates the strange lack of awareness that is peculiar to one's normal state of consciousness throughout the day. It is true, you can retain self-awareness for a little while, but in a moment or so, it is gone. This shows you, that you constantly forgot yourself. And in this state of accepted forgetfulness you live your life. The largely automatic nature of human behaviour derives from not being truly conscious, or not being mindful in all that is occurring and taking place. What do we mean by "automatic"? Breathing, for example, is an automatic function. We accept that, and it is fine. But what is really hard to accept, is the fact that our psychological behaviour and even our "thinking", "feeling", and "acting" is largely automatic also. Our personality is something that gradually grows and forms, and as we so much can see by observing those around us, this personality learns to react/act in a set manner, both in relation to others and to the world in general. A person has an observable way of behaving in any given situation, and as that person gets older, these reaction patterns become ever more ingrained. Not only does personality define behaviour, it also defines how a person thinks, how they feel, and what their desires are. We can no more change who we are, our personality, than we can stop our breathing or stop our thinking. In this sense, consciousness may be said to be largely automatic, with our lives lived out in a strangely somnambulistic state of activity. These are vitally significant realizations, because to be free, one has to be truly conscious. Mindfulness is a case of being conscious, of being self-aware, of remembering oneself, while fully involved in all that is going on, both within and without. This means, not losing oneself in what is going on. Not forgetting. Being truly present. The practice of mindfulness is a non-automatic activity. This is why it is so very difficult to maintain for any length of time. The path begins with self-observation: Self-observation is a preliminary exercise to actual mindfulness. It means to simply see and watch what is going on: how do we function, what are we aware of, how do we react with what is happening, and how do we identify with our thoughts, feelings and impulses, from moment to moment. Normally, the first thing that people do when they start self-observing, is try to change their behaviour. The aim of studying oneself, however, is to see how one behaves. Not to change it, but to observe it! An attempt to manipulate or change one's behaviour, as it occurs, robs the exercise of its purpose. It is particularly the case, that when negative reactions arise—such as anger, scorn, dislike, and so forth—one does not like to admit to having such behaviours. The temptation to modify or change what one sees in oneself, or to deny the very existence of such emotions, is normally irresistible. In Buddhist terminology we refer to these negative thoughts, emotions and impulses as "defilements" (klesa) or "afflictions" (asrava), because they are much like stains on white cloth, discolouring or staining the clarity of our psyche. These defilements or stains are "constrictions" (nivaranas) that arise in the psyche. How frequently do defilements arise in our system? Defilements arise in the human psyche almost all the time, in steady succession, throughout the day! The type of mental features that we are referring to as defilements are aversion, hate, anger, desire, want, confusion, conflict, fear, arrogance, defensive skepticism, enmity, concealment or denial, spite, envy, avarice, parsimony, dissimulation, insincerity, lying, aggression, vanity, ego-inflation, lack of conscience, lack of self-respect,or having no respect for others, restlessness, nervous excitation, faithlessness, cowardliness, criticism (of self, of others, of things), desultoriness, inattention, depression, lack of focus, and so on and so forth. It's a deplorable list, isn't it? The fact is, one or more of these negative "defilements" occur on a regular basis from one hour to the next. It is therefore important to look for the occurrence, to observe it, note it, and become conscious of it. So in the exercise of self-observation one must take a serious, sincere look at oneself. This means, observing just how one’s thoughts, feelings and impulses behave, moment to moment. The Problem of Ego-grasping: An aspect of the sleep that human's find themselves embroiled in, is the propensity of consciousness to identify with mentation. Mentation is the flow of thoughts, feelings, impulses that arise in the psyche, along with and in response to the physical sensations (sights, sounds, tastes, smells, and tactile perceptions) that impinge upon the sensory organs. This means that when a certain thought, feeling or impulse arises, the consciousness observing that, automatically identifies with the thought, feeling or impulse, and claims to own it. This we call ego-grasping (atma-graha). Ego-grasping is when consciousness "grasps" at a thought, and says "I think", or grasps at a passing feeling, and says "I feel such and such", and so on. The problem is particularly pernicious when consciousness identifies with an impulse. This is something that it continuously does in a very unconscious way. For when consciousness identifies with an arising impulse, consciousness suggests to itself that the choice being made is its own choice, determined by "free will", which it is not. The momentous discovery of the Buddha, is that there is no "self" or "ego" per se, in the human psyche; no master-self that consciously determines the choices we make. The sense of "self" that is experienced, is in fact an illusion. This truth, for the ordinary person, is impossible to accept. All apparent experience tells us otherwise. Je Tsong-kha-pa, the great reformer of Buddhism in Tibet and the founder of the Gelugpa Order, in his chapter on Vipasyana in the "Stages of the Path" (Lam-rim), says:
The truth of the matter is, our sense of "self" is a delusion of "ego-grasping". It derives from falsely identifying with the ongoing stream of mentation, as it occurs. This has been recently proven in a series of psychological tests made some years ago by Dr. Benjamin Libet of the University of California. Neurophysiological research carried out by Dr. Libet first demonstrated that a weak electrical pulse to the skin must generate about half a second of electrical activity in the brain for it to reach consciousness. Then, in experiments conducted jointly with neurosurgeon Bertram Feinstein, Libet discovered the same response when he stimulated the brain directly with a gentle electrical current. "If we let the stimulus run for a half-second, the person felt it as a sensation…", Libet discovered. "But if we ran it only four-tenths of second, he didn't feel a thing." What was learnt from these experiments was that the brain requires a processing delay of about half a second for us to become conscious of anything. Now, what does this tell us about "choice-making"? Feinstein and Libet went a step further in their experiments, and studied the action of sprinters at the starting line of a race. What they discovered was that, when the starting gun went off, the sprinters were out of the starting block in less than one-tenth of a second. Studies of brain activity showed that these sprinters were in motion before becoming conscious of the gun going off. That is, the impulse to run motivated them into action, prior to being conscious of making the choice to run. This experiment revealed that the sprinters were responding unconsciously to the starting signal. In other words, the response to the starting gun and the decision to propel the body forward, occurred in the psyche prior to being known to the consciousness. So, the choice was not a conscious choice. The sprinter's recollection of what happened, their conscious experience of what happened, was of course quite different. From the sprinter's own recollection of what was happening, it was evident that the sprinter clearly believed that he only initiated activity when he became conscious of hearing the starting gun. "But the whole thing is back-tracked in time," as Libet explains, "so that it feels as though he heard the gun before he started.". This means, we can confirm that brain activity associated with an impulse to act begins about half a second before one is conscious of the intention. Consciousness does not initiate choice. Choice is formed before the individual becomes conscious of it. This has astounding ramifications, since our whole sense of "self' and "free will' is based on the obvious feeling that it is the "conscious ego' that determines our choices. One's sense of "I" is a sense of a self that is conscious; a "self" that can decide what to think, what to feel, what to do. "I decide to reach for a glass of water when thirsty,"; you say. And likewise, even when thirsty, you believe that you can decide not to reach for the water. This lets you believe that you are master of your thirst, your desires. To have a "self' means, so you believe, to consciously own your decisions. But consciousness does not make choices. What consciousness does do is identify with the choice having been made by the system as a functioning whole, as and when the choice becomes conscious. Thus we say, "I choose…,"; when in fact the choice was already made for us. According to the psychologist B.F. Skinner, creator of the theory of Behaviourism, "a person is not an originating agent; he is a locus, a point at which many genetic and environmental conditions come together in a joint effort."1 Similarly, when the Bhikshu Moliya Phagguna asked the Buddha, "Who is it who experiences sense-stimuli? Who senses?,"; he received the following reply:
The environment, internalized, is early on converted into psychic experience, and action into ideas, drives and impulses. The psyche is thereby replaced by an imagined "self". But this "self" or "ego" is, to quote once more from Skinner, "at best a repertoire of behaviour imparted by an organized set of contingencies." Truly, when an actual self is looked for, as an independent self-determining centre or "object", no such principle can be found. An event, whether internal or external, acting as a stimulus, is transmitted through the appropriate organ, whence it gives rise to feeling, which then is capable of prompting a conative act. Thus, according to the Buddha, all experience is a concatenation of events:
Everything that arises depends on preconditions. This machine-like process, in the way everything works, is simply how a human being functions. Every experience, including each thought, emotion and choice, is part and parcel of a catena of events in a complex interplay that fundamentally is without beginning or end. Because the mind identifies with these events as they arise in consciousness, we experience a sense of self, and an important part of that sense of self includes the illusion of having chosen the said events ourselves. How the Psychic Catena functions: According to Buddhist psychology, every stimulus from the world around us makes its way to consciousness via two doors, in succession. Thus, in the case of a visible object that is "seen", we know that light-waves from the object in question enters the eye-organ and this stimulus (sparsa) is then transmitted through that sense-door to the brain. But before it can enter consciousness, it must also be transmitted through what is called the mind-door. How does this work? The psychic catena (cittavithi) functions as follows: First, we begin with the normal state of the receptive psyche, which is passive, or what we might describe as "latent". This state, which is ready to receive the stimulus of an event, is called (1) Bhavanga, which is a term describing the basic condition of the psyche in its latent mode. This is an unconscious, neutral state of mind, that becomes "disturbed" by the reception of a stimulus. When disturbed, for one thought-moment (citta-ksana2), the Bhavanga state is said to (2) vibrate (calana). Due to this vibration, for a second thought-moment, the Bhavanga state becomes (3) arrested in its normal passive flow. Arrestation occurs only if the stimulus is of sufficient strength. Even a strong but continuously repeated stimulus can lose its power to arrest the Bhavanga-momentum. The three Bhavanga states (original, vibrating, and arrested) are described as bhavanga-srota, the "being-continuum", that forms the underlying stream of events in a sentient being. When the third Bhavanga moment comes to an end, a series of preconscious events unfold. For one moment the respective (4) sense-door cathects with the stimulus, which means that the object is sufficiently strong or unique to demand attention. In the following moment a respective (5) sense-perception arises. This too lasts for the duration of a moment, then passes away. However, the sense-perception (vipaka-citta) is (6) received and then (7) examined or categorized in the mind. Examination is followed by what is called (8) determination. In a nutshell, this means that the stimulus is received and compared with known, recorded data in the mind, and then automatically "defined". This split second "determination" becomes the moment of actual conation. Conation means "choice making". But we are not talking here about a conscious choice making. We are talking about a mechanical or programmed choice making, a choice made in the mind prior to the decision becoming conscious, and this is what is called conation. This conation is a determination arrived at, based on a host of prior data. As a result of "determination", two things can happen: either the determination allows the apperception to rise to consciousness, or it does not. If it does not do so, we say that the apperception (i.e., whether a thought, feeling or impulse) is repressed.3 If the apperception is not repressed, we say that it is projected (javana) into consciousness. Rapid projection (javana) takes seven whole thought-moments (9-15). During these seven thought-moments, consciousness is said to undergo perception of the stimulus. After the projection moments (normally seven in all, but at the instant of death only five) have transpired, two moments of (16-17) recording occur. This completes the catena. Thus, in what really is an infinitesimal period of time, seventeen thought-moments occur in series for any psychic event to take place. (The numbers, in brackets above, detail these 17 moments). This series is what is known as a psychic catena (cittavithi). For everything that is experienced in consciousness, there must be such a psychic catena. And as we can see, most of the catena occurs beneath the level of what we call consciousness. Recently a statement by the psychologist Dr. Erdelyi would seem to coincides rather well with what Buddhism has been saying all along, namely: "The mistake may be in thinking that 'knowing' is an either-or affair. Perception might be a complex of processes, and the conscious phase of it might be the very terminal point."4 This is very true indeed. What is surprising is that only now does it appear that scientists in the West are beginning to realize this. From this, we recognize that consciousness is a function. We cannot attribute to such a consciousness what is imagined to be an "ego"—in the sense of a permanent, independent, decision making self, residing in, but distinct from the body-mind complex. "To consider that mental consciousness constitutes an ego," said the Buddha, "is entirely wrong." As the Buddha explained:
What is but a concatenation of events cannot be described as a permanent, independent conscious "decision-making" Self. Therefore the Buddha advised that the arising and cessation of events (dharmas) be watched without identification, without ego-grasping, until true realization dawns. Thus, instead of claiming, "I think, I feel, or I make such and such a choice," the seeker of Truth should note only that thoughts arise and cease, feelings arise and cease, and impulses arise and cease. Non-acquisition means not claiming that "these thoughts are mine,"; etc., or that "this is my decision". Instead the person should review the fact that:
Walking Meditation Walking meditation is done walking up and down either out of doors or, if in a meditation hall, then around the room. A stretch of about 30 to 40 paces is about right. Too long a stretch is undesirable because, as the practitioner will discover, the act of turning is an important aspect of the exercise. Too short a stretch does not allow calmness to be sustained. While walking, the attention should be kept on the movement of each foot as it is lifted, swung forward, and put down. Here, each separate action of walking is accompanied by mentally naming: "up," "forward," "down," or whatever other words might be preferred. The main condition is that, during each successive step, the attention must not be allowed to wander from the activity of the feet. For this reason the hands, with the writing hand held by the other, are clasped over the heart, and the eyes remain cast somewhat downwards. In keeping the attention on the foot movement, two distinct mental processes must be noted. The first is the intention arising in the mind. The second is the impulse to the body and feet to carry the intention out. The reason for separating the intention to move from the movement itself is so as to break the apparent continuity of the conation process and make one conscious of the two quite distinct mental events required to carry out any physical impulse. For the mind to watch these mental processes, movement has to be done very slowly and deliberately. Note the intention to lift the foot, followed by "lifting." Then the intention to swing the foot forward, and with the movement, the mental naming, "swing." The intention to put the foot down, and with the movement, again the naming, "down." "Intending lift," "lifting." "Intending swing," "swing." "Intending down," "down." And so on. Then after some thirty paces or so, "intending stopping," "stop." "Intending lift and swivel." "Lifting, swiveling." "Intending down," "down." Slowly one turns. How many separate movements are involved in the turning? And then one is off again, walking forwards. Thus one proceeds, up the path and down the path, turning about at each end. Throughout the exercises the aim is not to be distracted by thoughts ¬– to remain ever mindful, alert. As with sitting, hardly a minute passes when one does not have to check some train of thought that starts up unbidden and frequently unnoticed. Gently but firmly the mind must be constantly brought back to the meditation object. If you find yourself having a "thought-conversation" about what one is doing, that is a distraction. Likewise one must guard against any onset of boredom and tedium on the one hand, or strain and tension on the other. The exercise, therefore, is not in any sense an easy one. But by keeping up the drill, repeated attempts gradually bring the elephant of mind under control. According to the instructions of the Buddha, one should be mindful of the activities of walking while walking, of standing while standing, sitting while sitting, and even of lying while lying down. This means that one should be mindful of every bodily activity as it occurs. But while noting every bodily activity, one also has to be mindful of the mental activities that are happening too. When a feeling arises, one should note it. When a sensation arises, note it. Only in this manner, and under all different conditions, can the true nature of the mind-body complex be found out. It should also be recognized that normally, when someone is walking, while one foot is being put down the other leg begins to lift in expectation of the next step. During walking meditation this should not be allowed to occur. The next step should begin only after the first has finished. This allows the Yogin sufficient separation to follow each movement with complete mindful observation. Just as in the case of sitting meditation, after considerable time spent in the "naming" stage, it is necessary to move on to bare "witnessing." This means that one retains awareness of the walking, but without naming the specific movements. Do not jump to this too soon. First make certain that consciousness has attained some degree of actual Calm-abiding, and then progress to the point where it is possible to be vividly aware of each and every movement, but without any thought or name arising in the mind. Just witness activity with utter calmness. Mindfulness will develop into an overall clarity of the consciousness, and as this becomes quite natural, one's previous lack of lucidity will be remembered with something like a shock. The Fourfold Practice of Mindfulness Specifically, mindfulness is the direct means to change the way that the consciousness behaves, to awaken us from sleep; it is the sole way to bring about spiritual liberation. "This is the one way, O Bhikshus," said the Buddha, "leading to complete catharsis,5 to the overcoming of sorrow and depression, to the cessation of suffering and anxiety, to entering into the true Spiritual Path, and to the realization of Nirvana: namely the fourfold Practice of Mindfulness." The fourfold Practice of Mindfulness may be practiced as a sitting meditation and as a walking meditation. In taking up the Insight-practice of "mindfulness while in sitting meditation," one should change the focus of the gaze. Previously, in Calm-abiding meditation, one has been meditating with the gaze focused downward, along the angle of the nose. This has been helpful in bringing about concentration and inward calm, which is intended to lead to the Samadhi-state, as explained in Part II of the Dharma Fellowship Meditation Manual. Now, however, the gaze should be raised to the far horizon. The sevenfold Buddha-posture explained in the Dharma Fellowship Meditation Manual is the same for Insight-practice as for the more basic exercise of Calm-abiding, except for this feature, namely that the gaze is raised and focused straight ahead. One thus, so to speak, draws back onto centre, in oneself. It is said that when the Lord Buddha was residing with the people of Kuru, at a market town called Kamasadamma, he taught this practice of Mindfulness as a special method to an advanced group of followers. This group consisted of fully ordained monks, and consequently, the individuals to whom the Buddha's discourse (sutra) is addressed, are all referred to as "Bhikshus". They had been practicing meditation for some time. It was to this group of advanced students that the Buddha taught what is called the "fourfold Practice of Mindfulness"6, and we possess a record of his discourse in the Smrityupasthana Sutra. What is the fourfold Practice of Mindfulness? In the sutra the four steps of this practice are taught in detail and in a precise order. They consist of:
As one by now will understand, the practice begins with Calm-abiding meditation but then progresses into Insight-practice through special observation of the body, feelings, thinking and perception, and phenomena. We shall quote the words of the Buddha, in describing these four sets of practice. First, how to practice Mindfulness of the Body: "Herein, Bhikshus, a Bhikshu should abide [in meditation,] attentive on the body as the body; energized, clearly aware and mindful, having put aside worldly needs and depression. Second, how to practice Mindfulness of the Feelings: Caught up in strong body-sensation and feelings is the way that consciousness becomes entangled and captured by events. The sensations and emotions are more powerful than the thoughts. They grab us, and we entirely forget ourselves. So we need to become mindful of our feelings very carefully and wisely, because of the greater hold they can have over us. Mindfulness of feelings was described by the Lord Buddha as follows:
Third, how to practice Mindfulness of the Psyche: In developing attention on the psyche, one's state of mind, one must focus on the volitions (cetana, conation or will) and instinctual impulses (samskara) that arise in the mind. One must watch the basic drives: how they arise, how they impel us into activity. Where does an impulse come from? At exactly what initial point can a conation be observed? Impulses are stronger than sensation and emotion. Our instinctual drives frequently are responsible for determining how we think and feel—they can even determine our beliefs and fundamental outlook on life itself. We are all slaves to desire. As mindfulness deepens, it becomes essential to observe the state of the mind when possessed by attachment (lobha), aversion (dvesa) and confusion (moha). Attachment means wanting something, desiring something, or reaching out for something. It is an expansive movement. Aversion, on the other hand, is not wanting something, repelling something, or holding something at bay. It is a contractive movement. If the instinctual impulse of the being does not know whether to reach out or pull back from a particular stimulation, then it is caught in a state of confusion. Consequently in developing mindfulness of the psyche, just as it is, we must begin by observing what state the mind is in.
Fourth, how to practice Mindfulness of Phenomena: The Buddha's instruction then moves on to the observation of phenomena. It is extremely important to realize that one does not "give up" the earlier forms of attention, when turning to the observation of phenomena. No indeed! First one develops clear mindfulness of the body, its breathing and movements. Then, while maintaining one's awareness of the body in the body, the next stage consists of developing mindfulness of feelings (both internal emotion and external felt sensation). Then one adds the further dimension of the mind and its states. After body, feeling and mind are well encompassed by this practice of mindfulness, then, and only then, should one—not forgetting the former—take in the whole of phenomena, just as it arises. This means having mindfulness of body, feelings, mind and phenomena altogether. This is true mindfulness, since one is "self-aware" and "other-aware" simultaneously. And that is where the exercise becomes really meaningful. To practice mindfulness of phenomena, the Buddha recommends observing internal phenomena first. He starts therefore with the five hindrances, then progresses to the six sense-sources (i.e., light, sound, scent, tastes, tangibles and mental stimuli), and finally to phenomena as pure concept. Conclusion The Lord Buddha concluded his great discourse on mindfulness with the words:
The practice of mindfulness develops integration. The new unity that is then born as a result of all the disparate parts of the human being coming into integrated harmony is experienced as clarity of consciousness. How this happens is as follows: When any function is observed, it becomes less automatic. When the "whole being" is brought within the compass of mindfulness, then transcendental insight is born. Once that the complexes start to work together in harmony, then a person creates within himself or herself higher a new state of self-reflexive consciousness. This results in Enlightenment, the full realization of the true nature of the mind. Such is the path taught by the Lord Buddha. Mangalam. Sarva-mangalam!
The Meditation Manual of the Dharma FellowshipFootnotes 1 Skinner, About Behaviourism, NY, 1974. 2 A thought-moment is a miniscule fraction of a second consisting of (at most) four representative functions: (i) Utpada, arising; (ii) Sthiti, duration; (iii) Jara, decay; (iv) and Bhanga, cessing. Some schools of Buddhist thought equate sthiti with jara, making only three functions – nascent, static and cessant—for any single moment. Evidently some authorities, according to Shwe Zan Aung in his introduction to the Compendium of Philosophy, went so far as to deny the validity of a static phase altogether, concluding that a Ksana ("moment") merely arises and passes away without duration. These arguments can safely be left to the philosophers for discussion, since such particulars do not alter underlying psychological experience. It should be noted that the term "thought-moment" (citta-ksana) and "moment" (ksana) has two different meanings, in that the former relates to mental time, or the shortest length of time it takes to be conscious of anything, while the latter generally refers to the shortest interval of time (i.e., Planck time, 10–43 of a second) recognized in physics. The duration of a so called "thought-moment" was determined as follows: There are approximately twenty-five thought-moments in one Tatksana. Now, a day of twenty-four hours is, according to Buddhist chronology, divided into six Kala, each Kala into five Muhurta, each Muhurta into thirty Lavas, and each Lava into sixty Tatksana. Therefore a single Tatksana has a duration 1.6 sec in time. This would make one cittaksana, or "thought-moment,' equal to .064 of a second, and a single sthiti-ksana of a cittaksana one fourth (or one third, depending on the argument described above) of that. 3 Karma becomes operant due to Javana. This has significant bearing on repression (aprapti), for in the latter case there is no karma. Repression is a mechanism that does not allow karma ("causal action") and its consequences (vipaka) to occur. Karma only arises from Javana. In any given event if the "mental judgement" (manaskara) function is founded on a wholesome source, then the Javana will be wholesome. If on the other hand it is founded on an unwholesome source, the Javana shall be unwholesome. Therefore what naively is described as good or bad Karma, actually derives from the nature of the unfolding apperception. In the case of a Saint (arhat), the Javana is said to be neither one nor the other, but instead is merely Kriya, functional. 4 see Kevin McKean, In Search of the Unconscious Mind, an article that appeared in Discover Magazine, Feb. 1985. 5 Catharsis (visuddha) means purification of the mind. This refers to psychological catharsis of the defilements. Note: "By the Great Sage it was not said that it is bodily taints that make men impure, nor by baptism of the body do men become pure. The Great Sage said that it is through mental taints that men are made impure. Thus through purification of the mind, alone can they become pure." Jesus said the same: "You clean the outside… but inside, you are full of greed and self-indulgence." (Matth. 23:25). 6 Catvari smrityupasthana, fourfold Mindfulness-practice. |
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